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‘You’re loyal,’ Wilder observed. ‘Good. I’m glad she has that in her life.’
Kipp crossed his arms. ‘No thanks to you.’
‘No thanks to me,’ Wilder conceded, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Something unreadable flickered across Kipp’s face as he seemed to war with himself. Which meant now was the moment.
‘Why hasn’t she used her magic?’ Wilder asked bluntly. There was no way to sugar-coat it.
Kipp glanced back in the direction of the camp. ‘Who says she hasn’t?’
Wilder hesitated. When they’d been together, he’d been able to feel Thea’s power. The hum of it called to him like a song across the seas… but he hadn’t felt it for a long while now. Atfirst, he’d assumed it was because their connection had severed over the year of separation. But the lines of worry gracing Kipp’s face now confirmed what he’d started to suspect, what he feared…
‘It’s gone?’ he asked.
‘Hawthorne, I can’t tell you —’
Wilder drew a sharp breath. ‘You just did.’
Kipp shook his head, looking lost. ‘She won’t talk about it, but —’ His expression twisted. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you anything.’
‘Why are you?’ Wilder asked.
‘Because I don’t believe everything they say about you… Perhaps that makes me a fool.’
‘Perhaps it does.’
Kipp kicked the snow. ‘I’m far too clever to be a fool.’
‘So I’ve heard. And your friends?’ Wilder pressed.
‘Cal’s following Torj’s orders. Thea’s too hurt to see that this is much bigger than you.’ His light tone changed to something sharper. ‘Youhurt her…’
Wilder didn’t respond. Neither man moved, the air growing colder around them by the second. In the near distance, a shout pierced the night. Thea had found his gift, it seemed. He had to get out of there, had to get back to his horse and on the road. News of his findings needed to reach the right people, at the right time.
But Kipp was still staring at him, neither calling out to the others nor moving from his path. ‘You’re bleeding,’ the Guardian told him at last.
‘What?’
‘Your nose.’
Wilder’s brow furrowed as he lifted a hand to his nose, his gloved fingers coming away coated in red.
‘Here,’ Kipp said, holding out a kerchief.
Wilder accepted the scrap of fabric, blotting the blood from his face and cursing the lone howler that’d managed to get a blow in just before he’d been carved in two. Wilder made to pass the material back to Kipp, but the young man shook his head and finally stepped aside.
‘Keep it.’
‘A favour from the Son of the Fox?’ Wilder raised a brow. ‘I’m flattered.’
‘So you should be. You’ll be needing it before long, Warsword.’
Hearing the increased commotion from the camp, Wilder had no choice but to give Kipp a nod of thanks and push past him. There, he left his hunters to face the frostbitten dawn ahead.
The secret underground tunnels were hardly warmer than the icy climate of Aveum, but at least Wilder was out of the wind. With his stallion, Biscuit, in tow, he travelled far, navigating the twists and turns of the passageways with ease. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d needed to utilise the network beneath the midrealms, and he’d wager it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He could do so just as well without the blazing torch he held before him, but after so much darkness, he had hoped the flames might offer a touch of comfort in the deep night.
They didn’t.
